


What a Pair (of Hatstalls)

by Neyiea



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 19:50:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8858560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neyiea/pseuds/Neyiea
Summary: Sportacus is curious about the other first year student who took more than five minutes to be sorted.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I love Lazytown and I love Harry Potter, so here we are.

The first bloom of genuine interest in another student starts on his first day at Hogwarts. Hatstalls are uncommon, and to have two happen in one year is unheard of. 

Sportacus, a newly made Gryffindor who could have been in another house entirely, stares at Robbie, the Slytherin who almost wasn’t, all throughout dinner. He wants to approach the other boy, to make conversation, maybe find out what other house he had almost been sorted into, but before he can make a move Robbie excuses himself from his own table and trails out of the great hall. Sportacus doesn’t see him again until their first Potions class, and he quickly darts forward to sit beside him before any of the other first years can take the spot. 

It earns him a few odd looks, though no one appears as confused as Robbie himself.

“Hi, I’m Sportacus.” He holds out a hand cheerily, and the other boy very slowly grasps his fingers.

“Robbie.”

Robbie extracts his hand and his gaze flits about the room uneasily. It’s not until several moments later that Sportacus realizes that he’s looking at all the other tables, where Gryffindors are with Gryffindors and Slytherins are with Slytherins. 

“Something on your mind?” Sportacus keeps a friendly smile on his face, even as Robbie turns to give him an unreadable look.

“Two households, both alike in dignity,” Robbie says under his breath, and Sportacus leans in with a curious look.

“What’s that?”

“From a book I skimmed over, back when I was at a normal school. It’s about two different families who hold grudges against each other,” he looks pointedly between the different tables, at the green and red that, according to far too many people, seem to define them as being so very different from one another, “do you know what happens at the end?”

“They get over their differences and become friends?”

“People die.”

Sportacus blinks rapidly. “This muggle literature seems a little harsh. I thought that they’d have happier stories with nicer endings.”

Robbie’s eyes narrow slightly. “Listen, all I’m saying is that maybe, like the Montagues and Capulets, Gryffindor and Slytherin just aren’t meant to mix together. I’ve heard things, from the upperclassmen, about feuds that go way beyond casual school rivalry. It’s not…” He trails off, struggling to find the right words. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you to sit beside me. One of us should probably move before class starts.”

Sportacus stubbornly stays in place. “Even if I thought that was remotely true, which I do not, even you can’t ignore the fact that we were both hatstalls, which voids your main argument.”

Robbie blinks at him, eyebrows scrunching up at the term. “Excuse me, we’re both what?”

“Hatstalls,” Sportacus repeats, but Robbie’s expression doesn’t shift to one of recognition. “You know; it took more than five minutes for the hat to place us in our house, therefore we stalled the hat’s process, we-”

“Yes, I can figure it out from there.” Robbie’s eyes go sharp with curiosity and he leans one arm against the desk before them, eyes glued on Sportacus. “Is that not a common thing, then?”

“No, not at all. I think that the average is something like once every fifty years."

Robbie hums, and it looks as if he’s filing the information away for later.

“We were both hatstalls,” Sportacus says, trying to sound serious but mostly sounding excited, “so even if some people think that our houses don’t get along well, you can’t deny that we almost weren’t even put in our current houses.” He casts a glance around the room, and motions Robbie to lean a little closer. He complies, but not without rolling his eyes first.

“I was almost a Hufflepuff,” Sportacus whispers to him.

“I was almost a Ravenclaw,” Robbie says with his voice at its usual volume, then he sighs explosively. “Class will start soon, I guess that means we’re stuck with each other.”

Sportacus likes to think of that single point in history as the defining moment where he, a Gryffindor who was almost a Hufflepuff, became friends with Robbie, a Slytherin who was almost a Ravenclaw.

Robbie would probably say otherwise, but only because he would never want to admit that Sportacus’s natural charm worked on him the same way it worked on everyone else.


End file.
